


Virtue

by AnselaJonla



Series: Prompt fills [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: Written for the r/WritingPrompts post: [WP] Ironically enough, superpowers are assigned based on the inverse of your virtue. Criminals get butterfly wings or sparkly beams while charity runners get fangs or bat wings.





	Virtue

I bounce excitedly at the starting line. All around me is a sea of evil features. The guy in front of me has bat wings furled against his back. The women to my left and right have devil horns poking through the mesh of their running hats. Me? I have nothing.

This is my first ever charity run. I do parkrun every week, a sedate 5km jog around my local park, and I've always envied the adornments of the more seasoned runners. A sensible person would have started with a 5km close to home, but not me. I knew I could get more sponsorship, and therefore a better power set, from the outset if I went bigger and better.

Unfortunately I didn't get a place for the London Marathon, but the London Winter Run is probably a better idea anyway. A 10km run is more manageable for a novice after all, and being smaller means that hotel prices don't get as stupidly high that weekend.

Movement ripples ahead of me as my wave is released. I go with the flow, hoping that the field opens out soon so I can find my pace without worrying about crashing into a slower person in front of me. You never know who's got the ability to throw a fireball into your face, and I don't trust the prison-produced shielding bracelet, mandatory for all non-powered runners, to entirely protect me.

Just over an hour later I stagger over the finishing line, barely steps ahead of the bat-winged man I'd started behind. A slap to my back sends me staggering forward as he congratulates me, and I smile up at him. We collect our finishers' medals, and exchange phones to take each other's finish line photos with the race mascots.

I grin widely as I look at my photo, in its red-eyed, long-fanged, pale-skinned gloriousness.


End file.
